After 31 years in a middle school language arts classroom, I taught my share of grammar lessons. I enjoyed using student work and passages from favorite novels to introduce grammar skills. Though it was sometimes a hard sell, I tried my best to create an environment where students didn’t feel intimated by all the rules. Was grammar fun? Sometimes.

I retired June, 2025, and was thrilled when my son and daughter-in-law asked me to babysit their first child, our first grandchild, Blair. I knew immediately what my “grandmother name” would be…Grammar. Would Grammar be fun? Always!

Blair is a joy, a beautiful, beaming brilliant baby who is now seven-months-old. I babysit for her three days a week. She knows I’m always good for one more book, one more block tower, one more silly song, or one more funny tune on the Fisher Price four-key piano. During tummy time, I break out the Little People and enact full dramatic story lines while she watches with wide, interested eyes. Occasionally, she reaches for Ariel or Belle or the snowboarder and gives the little figure a chomp with her three pearly teeth.

I took it in stride last week when my son and daughter-in-law asked me to alter my schedule. They were both taking off work and traveling to Cincinnati, about an hour and a half from our town. My son found two gently-used vehicles at a dealership there; and since both their cars were showing their age, he thought it was a deal he couldn’t ignore.

Instead of arriving at their house at 8:30 AM and staying until 5:00 PM, I would be needed from 11:30 AM until they wrapped up the deal. No problem.

Blair and I had a great afternoon. We had a “tea party” with her V-Tech tea party set.

“Find the wafer cookie!” the voice inside the tea set commanded. I found the wafer cookie while Blair chewed on the green tea cup. We set her Leya Doll, her Cuddle-n-Kind Bear, and her Angelina Ballerina around the tea set. Blair used her chubby fist to push the pitcher into Angelina’s lap.

After our tea party, we read even more books than usual, and I did a funny dance routine to “The Elephant Song” from Jungle Book. It was beginning to get late. I knew it was time for her bath; and that was not something I’d helped with since she was about three months old. I was usually back at my house when bath time rolled around.

How hard could it be? I asked myself. The last time I helped with her bath, she had nestled snuggly in the little plastic bath pod they used in the tub. The pod was hanging in the bathroom; and I knew where they kept her little hooded towels.

I’ve got this, I thought. I’d raised two sons. Of course I could do this. Her parents had told me how much she loved the bath, how she really enjoyed the whale that lights up with different colors and squirts water into the air. It was a gift from my husband, Poppy. She would have a great time in the bath, I thought, and we could chalk up one more fun day with Grammar!

With Blair in one arm, I gathered up everything we needed: towel, washcloth, rinsing pitcher, baby soap and shampoo, bath pod. Back in her room, I set out a clean diaper and a cozy set of footed pjs. We were ready.

Blair’s bathroom is small; so maneuvering the two of us around the toilet so I could reach her while she was in the tub was our first challenge. I positioned the bath pod in the tub within arm’s reach while Blair sat on the bathroom rug between me and the tub. She was all eyes. I got the feeling I was not doing things the way her parents did. I turned on the water, found the stopper for the drain, and waited until the water was deep enough for me to dip my elbow in. It was the elbow that was supposed to reveal if it was too hot, right? It had been 24 years since I gave a baby a bath on my own. I tried the other elbow.

Carefully, I lowered Blair into the bath pod. I expected her to kind of lean back like she did a few months ago so the water would gently lap over the tops of her legs; but I was wrong. Suddenly, my sweet granddaughter became Michael Phelps. Her legs were kicking like crazy, and she refused to lie back. Instead she waved her arms and tried, gleefully, to fling herself forward out of the safety of the bath pod and into the tub which I now thought was way too full. I was holding Blair’s shoulder with one hand and the baby soap with the other. I squirted a little on her back while she wriggled and bounced. How could I have forgotten that nothing is as slippery as a soapy baby?

With one dimpled hand, Blair managed to grab the shower curtain and stick it in her mouth. I dropped the soap with a splash and peeled the curtain from between her lips. I was now wedged firmly between the toilet and the tub and had zero idea how I was going to lift this slick, wriggling child safely from the water. It would require me to engage my core (I have no core) in order to stand from my knees to my feet while holding 17 lbs of squirming infant. Why had I ignored all the bloggers who touted the virtues of lifting heavy weights?

Praying for strength, I wrapped Blair in the towel, while she was still sitting in the tub. Clutching her beneath her arms, I stood in one swift movement, drawing her to me with the soaked towel slapping against my jeans. I had her. She was dripping wet and barely clean, but she was smiling from ear to ear. Another fun day with Grammar in the books; but Grammar had learned a valuable lesson. Get to the gym and build some muscle before supervising bath time again.